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The morning dawns on Camp Half-Blood gently, the amber rays of the rising sun shining off the morning dew that covers the grass. The soft glow of the torches illuminate each entrance to the cabins, becoming dimmer as the sunlight peeks higher and higher over the horizon.
Clarisse La Rue is the first to awaken, stepping out of the Ares Cabin, stretching her legs to prepare for her daily morning run. As much as she’ll never admit it, it’s her favorite time of day, when the Camp is empty — just her and her thoughts, and the calm hushes of the sea.
She jogs over to the beach, ready to begin her run, when she notices something strange. The water is choppy, small waves crashing into each other, creating more oscillations that disturb the surface of the sea. The sea is always calm, always.
The only times she’s ever known it to be disturbed is when they’re are people actually in it, or…
“Jackson!”
She stomps back up to the cabins, all the way up to cabin three. Her hand is itching to punch something, and Jackson’s face sounds like a pretty good target right now. Not even bothering to knock, Clarisse shoves the door open, letting it hit the wall with a deafening bang. It reveals multiple rows of bunk beds that wouldn’t be amiss in a ship, all surrounding a small pool of water.
Percy awakes with a start, his first thought being ow and his second being Clarisse? He has to admit, waking to find Clarisse La Rue standing, fuming over his bedside is scary, and it would probably be infinitely more terrifying if his head didn’t pound so hard. He groans, holding his head in his hands.
Now that he thinks about it, it isn’t just his head — his throat feels all scratchy, like he’d swallowed a Dorito whole, and his whole body feels like he had been dumped in ice water. He huddles under the covers, trying to ignore Clarisse’s glare.
No such luck. “Jackson!” She says way too loudly, making him wince, and then she pokes him in the stomach, making him wince more. “Are you sick? Really? Why?”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, his throat protesting at even that little sound, “if I had known you’d be mad, I would’ve chosen another day to be sick on.”
“Not funny,” she hisses. “I swear, if I have a cold shower because of you today, I’ll stab you with my spear, sick or not.”
“Look, Clarisse,” Percy says, turning around in bed, only to be rewarded with more pounding in his head and a tickle in his sinuses, “I can’t — can’t — achoo!”
Clarisse really should have been expecting the blast of water that hits her in the face, practically shooting her half out the door. As she lies on the floor, sputtering and dripping went, she hears a weak voice call from inside. “Sorry!” Percy doesn’t sound very sorry at all.
Clarisse clenches her hands into fists. Jackson is dead.
***
“Aw, come on!”
This is the first thing Annabeth hears when she wakes up in Athena’s cabin, followed by complaining voices. The only thing she can think is something’s wrong. In fifteen seconds flat, she’s swung herself out of bed, grabbed her knife, and peered out the main door, ready to strike.
Instead, she sees the majority of her half-siblings, along with a few other demigods, staring at the sea in disdain. Confused, she lowers her knife a little — is there a monster in the water? Are they trying to fight it?
Then, without warning, a huge wave springs up and drenches the people closest to the water. They shriek, then retreat to their cabins, while the rest just look kind of annoyed.
The one thing that completes the puzzle is the girl who emerges from the shower blocks, scowling and holding her towel. “It’s practically unusable. One second it burns me, the next it’s freezing, and the next there’s no water at all!”
As everyone else begins to express their own issues, Annabeth marches all the way to Poseidon’s cabin. She knocks (at least) before barging in just like Clarisse had.
Once more, the sound startles Percy into consciousness, and if possible, he feels even worse. He’s shivering, his head is pounding so hard he can barely see, and his throat screams every time he swallows. Groaning, he faceplants into his pillow, hoping that whoever it is will get the hint and leave.
He clearly has horrible luck today, since he feels a hand grab his shoulder. “Percy? Are you okay?”
Relieved to hear Annabeth’s voice, he turns over in bed. “Hi.”
Through his blurry eyes, he sees Annabeth’s concerned face. He must look really bad. She plants a hand on his forehead, and nearly snatches it back, as if shocked. “You’re burning up!”
He tries to say, “It doesn’t feel that way to me,” but all he manages to get out are harsh coughs. Outside the cabin, he hears more shouts and groans. “What — what’s going on outside?”
Annabeth gives him a flat glare. “What do you think?” It’s a little difficult for Percy to shrug his shoulders while being covered by his sheets, but he manages to get the message across. She sighs. “You control water, right? So, when you’re sick, your control would naturally… slip.”
“Oh,” is all he says. “Whoops.” Then, he sneezes so hard it feels like he’s ejected his whole brain through his nose, and judging by the sudden, loud sound of water and the screams, he must’ve burst something.
“Percy, you need to go to the infirmary,” Annabeth says, narrowing her eyes when Percy shakes his head. “Yes, you do.”
“I — I can sleep it off,” he says, a shiver running through him again. “I’ll be okay in a day or so.”
Annabeth laughs, and he wonders what it is that he said that is so funny. “Percy, I don’t think you understand how many people outside will gladly skewer you like a kebab with their swords because of this. People are angry.”
“Well, I’m sorry that I got sick. Should’ve told me before so I could reschedule.” Another cough, another round of cries that float through the open doors of the cabin.
“Alright,” she says in a light tone, and Percy is genuinely fearing for his life for two seconds before she leaves.
The tension that gripped his body slowly fades away, and he turns back around in bed, glad to know that Annabeth gave up and let him be. He pulls his trembling limbs closer to his chest in order to warm them up, and almost falls asleep, when for the third time that day, the doors to his cabin are thrown wide open, hitting the walls with a crack. Two pairs of footsteps march in, and he can’t even open his eyes to see who.
Can’t he get any sleep around here?
“Oh, yeah, he doesn’t look too good,” a voice says, and the other person snorts.
“That’s an understatement.” Annabeth. One, he shouldn’t have believed that Annabeth would actually leave him alone, and two, rude.
“Okay,” the other voice says. Percy’s finally able to place it — Will Solace, son of Apollo and a medic that works in the infirmary. “Be careful, we don’t want him to hit his head…”
Percy is dying to ask what the hell is happening, but all he can do is cough. Judging by the sound of water hitting skin, he must’ve accidentally splashed either Annabeth or Will in the face. From the low swears he hears, it must have been Will.
“Alright, Percy,” he says, his tone noticeably harder, “you’re going to get treatment whether you like it or not.” With that, Percy is suddenly lifted into the air by his arms and legs. He groans and tries to escape from the grip, but he’s completely weak, and barely manages to do more than throw a bunch of water at his two captors. They place him on something else that feels sort of like a bed, but less comfortable — a cot.
Percy finally manages to open his eyes, and he spies both Annabeth and Will standing over him looking annoyed, water dripping down their faces and from the ends of their hair. “Sorry,” he rasps.
“I’ve had worse,” Will says as he and Annabeth pick up the cot. It’s a bit of a bumpy ride, but until they get to the door of the cabin, it’s all fine.
Once they reach the threshold, though, Percy has to slam his eyes closed at the harsh glare of the sun. The pain in his head turns up to eleven, and a loud sneeze seemingly douses more campers. He can hear Annabeth and Will’s footsteps, their shoes squelching in the mud he must have created. He’s probably getting a million death stares as they transport him through the camp and to the Big House.
In the infirmary, he’s deposited on a bed which sets off another round of coughing. He can hear the pipes of the Big House rattling, but thankfully, none of them burst. However, a water jug in the corner explodes.
Will sighs. “I better get you fixed up before you cause any more property damage.” A pause, then a straw appears at Percy’s mouth. “Come on. The nectar won’t solve it completely, but it’ll help.”
Percy drinks, and instantly, his blinding headache dulls to a small throb. His throat also feels better, but he’s still shivering.
“Where did you even get this fever from?” Will asks, placing a cold ice pack on his head.
“Good question,” Percy says. Huh, that’s why he’s both shivering and sweating.
Annabeth, who’s standing in the corner, crosses her arms. “You spent the whole day the day before yesterday with Rachel, who was clearly sick! Why are you surprised?”
Percy winces. “Well, honestly, I thought I wouldn’t be able to get it, since I’m, y’know, half god?”
Annabeth facepalms, and Will looks close to repeating her action. He stares straight into Percy’s eyes. Gods, no wonder people found blue eyes creepy — he feels like Will is staring straight into his soul. “You’re staying here until you’re one-hundred-percent healthy. Got it?”
“Will —”
“No.”
“But —”
He shoves the glass of nectar into Percy’s face, forcing the straw into his mouth to shut him up. “No. I’m not letting you go so you can destroy the plumbing any more than you already have!”
Percy tries to glare at Will and Annabeth, but they stare back just as intensely.
He sighs inwardly. He’s not getting out of here any time soon.
***
Two days and multiple arguments with Annabeth and Will later, Percy is finally allowed to go back to Cabin Three. Now that he isn’t blinded by a headache, he can see the remnants of the damage he caused. The sea is calm again, but the ground is still a little muddy, and it seems that he had disabled half of the sinks and showers. It’s easy to tell, as he walks through the camp, that he’s not exactly everyone’s favorite right now. He’s pretty sure the arrow that ‘accidentally’ lands two inches from his foot is probably less accidental than that Apollo kid said it was.
He’s glad to make it to cabin three in one piece, but as he opens the door, he closes his eyes as soon as he sees who’s standing inside. Maybe if I don’t look, she’ll disappear, he thinks, but when he opens his eyes again, she’s still there. Damn.
Clarisse smirks, holding her spear tightly in her two hands. “Hey, Jackson.”
“…Clarisse.”
“Feeling better?”
“Not really. Can’t we do this later?”
Her smirk broadens to a full grin. “Sorry, no can do.”
Percy sighs, and moves to pull out Riptide from his back pocket. Clarisse settles into a battle stance, ready to fight, which means that she doesn’t expect it when Percy promptly dashes right out the door.
“Jackson! Come back here! I’m not finished with you!”
“You’ll have to catch me to even start!”
Clarisse roars, and runs out the cabin door after him. Little punk.
***